Poor Mrs. Sincere Lee
Stares longingly at a frame
Gilded gold and empty
On her wall
Once a portrait of her younger face
If only her wane and fading
Mind beneath her thin thin crown
Of silver white,
Could she remember
Nimbly
If she could only resite
Brush stroke memory
Back to life

Since thoughts have drowned
In misty loss
Her youth and summer gowns
Gone to distant shores
From regretful ocean of forgotten
Melting days before
Like Salvatore Dali clocks mocking
Time in dreamy lacquer.
Her emotions turned against her,
Enemies at the door,
Draining the vivid Now demurer
Most recollections are merely
Half together sewn no fervor,
But Waves of ups and downs
Cast away in an album of
Forlorn, her own war
Old timers Alzheimer
Fading to devoured
Mindless hours staring
As colors fade to
Frailty to
Deathly
Darkly / But only a black
Black door...

She recalls her own demure lil curtsy
She was as loyal as a pet rock,
Still she stares at the blank canvas
Rather than the dawn on the dock
Frozen in the lack
Of having not known nor found
Someone
More than this
Silent dame of down,
With more to her than some
Husband's name
Mrs. Sincere Lee in her pink
Lingerie
Can only stare not at the painting
But it’s decaying frame…

With a thinning crown
Of silver white
Of wish of need of crave
The days without an empty canvas
Or her sentence
of self blame
Time is leaving her
Frozen In such hollow canvases
Not angry but a foggy haze
And a wrinkled touch of
Shame.

Ennui.
The trenchant ocean
Burns with out a flame.
Truth is a light
Love guides your way.
Forget me not
She says, to the ocean
Why stay...?